


Meant to Be

by Brightest_Moonstone



Series: With time and silence [5]
Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, FixitFic, Time Travel, companion fic, freeslyfromegypt, tranquilita AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23078920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightest_Moonstone/pseuds/Brightest_Moonstone
Summary: The Gang tries to bring Sly home
Relationships: Sly Cooper/Carmelita Fox
Series: With time and silence [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/804276
Comments: 33
Kudos: 48





	1. Where there's a will

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VividMayu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividMayu/gifts).



> Welcome to my first full fledged fic of 2020!  
> This was promised to Mayurei like two years ago and now its finally come together.  
> This follows on from 'Those Who Wait' as part of my 'With time and silence' series if you haven't read those please make sure you do that first.  
> For those who have, welcome back let's bring this story to an end.

_What’s meant to be  
Will always find a way.  
\- Trisha Yearwood_

Carmelita Fox had always considered herself a woman of absolutes. Absolute confidence that the work she was doing was right, absolute faith in the system she supported. Absolute certainty that the criminals she chased were in the wrong, that they possessed no compassion and in return were deserving of none.  
And then one by one those absolutes had been shaken, had softened.  


She had seen corruption in the system she fought so hard for, had seen how easily others who held her black and white point of view had believed a lie.  


She’d had to question that sense of absolute when she had found herself not once, but twice staring up at a monster born of hatred and nightmares.  


A creature completely outside the law she so valued.

And she had seen the softness and humanity in the criminals she pursued when one of their own was hurt.  


And when she had been vulnerable.  


It had been the Countessa’s greatest cruelty to leave Carmelita awake and aware within her own mind after everything else had been stripped away.  


Making her into a doll, a thing for pleasure.

There might have been fear, if fear had remained to be felt but the Countessa had taken that too. Although truly she had not needed fear, not even for an instant while she had been with Sly. His concern for her had shaken free that final absolute and she had realised how deeply he cared for her.  


That awful week in Prague had changed everything. Carmelita had been forced to confront an attraction that she had largely tried to ignore. She had watched Sly Cooper, a criminal who she thought that she had all figured out discard his plans and his prize, to help her.  


It was enough to turn a worldview on its head.  


It was enough to begin falling in love.  


And love had a way of making you soft, of making you more forgiving. It made you more willing to see from the other person’s point of view.  
And that was how she had ended up on an uncharted island in the South Pacific in complete disregard for protocol. It was how she ended up bouncing through the time stream, an honorary member of the Cooper Gang.

* * *

Carmelita sighed; she was tired. She always seemed to be tired these days. In the moths following Sly’s disappearance Carmelita had thrown herself into her work in a big way, taking on more cases and devoting her spare time to assisting Bentley in the search.  


It had taken its toll.  


Shadowed eyes and sunken cheeks, a noticeable jut to his ribs and then her hair and fur had begun to shed at an alarming rate. Finally, in frustration she’d taken a pair of scissors and sheared off her long plait, then shaved her fur down to bare bristles in the hopes that the patchiness would be less obvious. It had however only highlighted how ragged and worn she was, and tongues had begun to wag at Interpol.  


Eventually Barkley had called Carmelita into his office for a ‘talk’. Now she was on medically mandated leave until two doctors and a psychologist decided that she was fit for duty. Which was why she was sitting in her apartment at three o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon, reading through posts on a historical conspiracy forum on her tablet. She knew that Bentley had an algorithm that was constantly running, scanning for any mentions of Sly but Carmelita needed to feel like she was doing _something_. Although there were only so many times one could read ‘aliens did it’ in a day before it became too much to bear, maybe she’d make an account for rebuttals, _‘hi yes, I’ve been to the past and there were no aliens to be seem. Have a nice day.’_  


Carmelita lowered her tablet and stared out the window, maybe it was time for a break. When was the last time she’d eaten? Her bare cupboards suggested at least a day, or maybe three.  


Carmelita pulled on her coat, a walk, some fresh air and some groceries. It would do her good.

A hot chocolate and a croque madam in her favourite café made Carmelita feel at least a little sturdier, then with the late autumn breeze tugging at her now short curls she wandered. Her feet carrying her through her beloved Paris, past places that reminded her of running and chasing, of victories and of peace. She paused looking up at the Natural History Museum, it was getting late. Too late to buy a ticket and she still hadn’t gotten groceries.  
She turned to go when she heard a voice hailing her, “Inspector Fox _!_ ” One of the curators of antiquities, a bushy furred palas cat in a tweed jacket and bowtie jogged down the stairs toward her.  


“Laurent.” Carmelita greeted him. “How are you?”  


Laurent huffed. “I am as well as can be expected, we are preparing for a new exhibition and my department is in charge.”  


Carmelita winced; Laurent was the kind of historian who guarded his artefacts jealously. Notoriously grouchy and difficult to work with, Carmelita could imagine his reluctance. His collections had been targeted by Sly on more than one occasion.  
“Would you like me to do a security check for you Laurent?”  


Laurent’s scrunched up face opened into a surprised smile, “oh is that why you’ve come today?”  


Carmelita shook her head, “no I was here for… personal reasons but I have some time free if you’d like…”  


Laurent clapped his hands together, “who am I to say no to Interpol’s finest? Yes, yes, come with me.” 

He lead Carmelita down and into the bowels of the museum with Carmelita making mental notes on things that needed changing. A security gate that required reinforcing, guard patrols that needed to be more frequent, some keypads that should be changed as well as their codes. And really Laurent should know better than to use a code with repeating digits, it made them far too easy to crack.  


“It is so good Inspector to speak with someone who _understands_. These artefacts are treasures in the sense that they are the foundations of our history. They are not just baubles to be gawked at, they must be preserved and protected.” Laurent unlocked the final door to the restoration room. “Ah now there is one thing I would like to show you, both as a like-minded individual and as someone who can appreciate a mystery.” He shooed a few juniors in their white coats out of the way and invited Carmelita to the bench. “Come, look. This carving was recovered from the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. The Cairo Museum has very kindly lent it to us for study and cataloguing. The inscription itself is fairly standard, rudimentary translation revealed what is likely the craftsmen’s names but this…” He shifted the lamp above the bench to shine directly onto one corner. “This is an anomaly.”  


Carmelita politely leant over still thinking about her lack of groceries but as she looked down her breath caught in her throat, there, scratched into the ancient stone was a small, stylised raccoon face.  


Sly’s calling card.  


It had been rendered almost unrecognisable by the ravages of time, years of erosion and wear. In fact, Carmelita may have dismissed it entirely if not for what had been carved beside it, jagged and clumsy they might have been but there were the initials _S.C._  


Sly’s initials. He was alive and he had sent a message.  


Carmelita opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t, instead she gripped the edge of the bench as she fought the urge to snatch the tablet and run.  


“Now it is believed…” Laurent continued oblivious to Carmelita’s plight, “that this…” He pulled on a cotton glove and gestured to the raccoon face, “is a homage to Bast but these…” His pointing finger hovered over Sly’s initials, “are a cause of great contention. Carbon dating has confirmed that this bit of vandalism is in fact as old as the main carving itself but as far as we know there was no Roman presence in Egypt at the time. So, one might ask, how did a numeral for seven hundred appear here?”  


“Seven hundred?”  


“It is argued that this character, what we view as an ‘S’ was once used to denote a numeral seven but I am unsure if I believe that particular explanation, after all this is hardly how ‘seven hundred’ would be laid out.”  


“Mm…” Carmelita nodded. _I’m so sorry Laurent_ , she thought to herself, immediately discounting all the advice she had been about to give about updating the security. Carmelita was going to need that tablet.  


And luckily, she knew just the thieves to help her get it.  


* * *

“Carmelita… Carmelita, slow down…” Bentley gasped. “Are you… are you saying that you’ve found Sly?”  


“Not exactly.” Carmelita said, she paced restlessly, her tail lashing, phone pressed almost painfully against her ear. “But I think I have a good lead on where we can start looking.”  


“Okay. Okay I’ll call Murray; can you meet us back at the safehouse?”  


“I’ll be there within the hour.” Carmelita lifted a hand to hail a taxi.  


“Good, good.” Bentley said sounding more than a little shell-shocked. “We’ll see you soon.”  


Hanging up, Carmelita climbed into the taxi and gave an address two streets off from the safehouse. She clenched her fists and jigged a leg agitated and impatient.  


This could be it.  


They could save Sly, no… they _would_ save Sly.  


They would bring him home.  


Whatever it took.

* * *

Bentley sat back, arms folded, face thoughtful. “Are you sure it was Sly’s calling card engraved on the stone?”  


Pacing back and forth, Carmelita threw up her hands and let out a huff. “I won’t say that I’m a hundred percent certain but I think I’ve seen enough of Sly’s calling cards over the years to recognise when one is genuine.”  


Bentley took off his glasses to rub at his face. “Alright.” He nodded. “Don’t… don’t take this the wrong way Carmelita but I’m going to need to take a look at this…”  


Carmelita paused, hands on her hips. “Of course. I wouldn’t suggest that we just throw it in the time machine and see where it takes us.” She resumed her pacing. 

“I got a good look at the security system today; I know exactly where all the weaknesses are. I think we can get in on a Thursday night and…” She broke off as she realised that Bentley and Murray were both staring at her open mouthed. “What?”  


“ _You_ want us to steal something?” They asked in astounded unison.  


“Borrow,” Carmelita clarified hastily. “We’re going to give it back after we find Sly.”  


“Are you sure about this Carmelita?” Bentley asked.  


“Yeah,” Murray added. “Can’t you just say that you need it for a case or something?”  


Carmelita sighed, “no. I’m not currently on active duty, so there’s no way I can get my hands on it officially… or legally. I think the Cooper Gang way is going to be our best bet.”  


The boys exchanged a look before nodding.  


“Let’s get down to it then.” Bentley said, wheeling his chair around and rolling over to his work bench. “I have an idea about how we can confirm that Sly was the one who left that message.” He held up his binocucom. “When we were looking for Salim, I modified Sly’s binocucom to pick up traces of Cooper DNA. I’ve been performing similar modifications to my own, trying to specifically tune it to Sly.” He tapped a crystal wired into a circuit board. “This is a focussing crystal I found on the deep web that should allow an accurate scan time irrelevant. I’ve gone through some online tutorials and I believe I’ve charged it up correctly.”  


Carmelita held out her hands and Bentley passed her the binocucom, she turned it over gently in her hands. “Magic?” She asked.  


“Yes.”  


An intersection of science and black magic, the same combination that the Countessa had used on Carmelita but now, here was a similar build being used help them save Sly. Carmelita smiled gently to herself. “Incredible Bentley.” She said, handing the binocucom back.  
It felt unreal, that after all this time there was hope again. That they might actually find Sly. She took a breath, remembering a night in China that felt very long ago. “When you go in, I’m going with you.”  


Bentley blinked at her, “are you sure? You don’t have to. Murray and I can handle it.”  


“I know the layout, I’m fast and I happen to know that you work best as a trio.”  


“Yeah but Carmelita, what about your job?” Murray asked quietly.  


Carmelita swallowed, this would… of all the acts that she had committed with the Cooper Gang be the one with the most opportunity for direct and dire consequences. She’d been officially off the force in the Czech Republic and Canada and whilst she’d technically gone rogue to follow Sly out to Kaine Island there had been no one to question her story about following a dead end lead. And of course, when they had gone bouncing through the past she had been well and truly outside of her jurisdiction.  


Here however, if they were caught, if she was even seen, her beloved career would be over.  


But at this point Carmelita didn’t care. Sly was worth it.  


“Get me a mask.” She said folding her arms. “That always seemed to work for Sly.  


Murray reached out to grip Carmelita’s shoulder and nodded. Solidarity. Acceptance. Support.  


“If you’re sure Carmelita.” Bentley said. “We certainly could use the help.”  


Carmelita didn’t have anymore doubts, months of guilt had firmly made up her mind. Carmelita had not been there at the end and she couldn’t but feel responsible for all that had happened. Could she have saved Sly if she hadn’t run?  
“I’m a member of this gang, aren’t I? I’m sure.”  


“Alright _!_ ” Murray punched a fist in the air enthusiastically then stuck out his hand, “Let’s do this.”  


Carmelita felt a fond smile curl unbidden at the corner of her lips putting a hand on Murray’s.  


Bentley added his too. “Let’s do this.” He confirmed.  


“Together.” Carmelita said.  


“Together.” The boys echoed. “Together.”


	2. there's a way

Carmelita knelt in the back of the van, one of Sly’s old masks clutched in her hand. This was it.

“Ready?” Bentley whispered.

Carmelita adjusted her gloves and made sure her hair was securely tucked up beneath her beanie then finally tied on the mask. “How’s this?”

“You might want to adjust it a little, like this…” Bentley mimed in front of his own face. “Facial recognition software often has more trouble identifying you if it doesn’t know where your cheek bones begin or how your brow line sits.” 

Carmelita shifted the mask slightly, “is that why Sly wears these?”

“No Sly just thought they looked cool.”

“Ha. I knew it.”

“Are you guys sure that you don’t want me to come in with you?” Murray asked from the driver’s seat.

“Speed is of the essence here Murray.” Bentley said, loading tranquiliser darts into his crossbow. “We need you to keep the van running either so we can make a jump or escape before someone recognises Carmelita.”

Carmelita inclined her head gratefully. It was too late to back out now but at least if everything did come tumbling down, at least she had some friends who had her back. She took a deep breath and pushed open the doors of the van, jumping out onto the dark street.  
Bentley hopped down beside her and the two of them went to shut the van doors.

“See you soon Murray, be careful.” Carmelita said.

“The Murray does not know the meaning of the word… but I’ll try.”

Carmelita smiled at that before closing the door.

* * *

She and Bentley slipped through the darkness to a side door of the museum.

“Ready?” Bentley asked again, the appendages of his wheelchair deftly picking the lock.

“More than ready.”

“Then let’s do this.” Bentley said as the door creaked open.

‘This’ as it turned out was almost insultingly easy.

Was this why Sly had always been so insufferably smug after a heist?

“When was the last time they updated security here?” Bentley whispered. The two of them were half hidden behind a decorative pillar while Bentley jacked into the security terminal.

“Probably the last time Sly robbed the place.”

Bentley made a disgusted noise, “that was years ago.”

“Tell that to the board of trustees, they keep saying that the current system is adequate.”

“Adequate doesn’t keep out quality.” Bentley scoffed. Somewhere above them in the upper echelons of the museum an alarm began to trill then died, then another in a different wing and another and another. “Right, they’re rebooting the system now. I’m taking down the cameras, let’s go.”

They set off, scurrying between pools of shadow toward the archives, Carmelita mentally running through the guard schedule in her head.

“Wait.” She held up a hand, the two of them taking cover as a guard wandered past, muttering into his radio. One step past them, two, then three, until he disappeared around the corner. “Okay, go.”

Down they went, they hit the security gate, and pulled at the weakened join until there was a gap large enough for them both to squeeze through.

Bentley got them through the passcode locked doors without breaking a sweat. “3441?” He guessed, punching in the numbers on the faded keypad. The door buzzed open.

Carmelita shook her head and sighed, “I told Laurent, no double digits and change the codes every six months.”

“Let’s be grateful that they didn’t listen. Are we close?”

“Just down the stairs.” Working with Bentley was different to how Carmelita was used to running operations with Sly. Less chatty and more nervous for one thing. “I’ll make sure that the coast is clear.” The rocket boosters on his chair weren’t loud but they made enough noise to get them noticed.

Luckily the guard must have gone to investigate the haywire alarms and there was a clear run to the door of the archives.

* * *

Carmelita lit her flashlight shifting it across the towering stacks and over the work tables. “The index tag on the tablet was #EGC775B.” She whispered. She passed the beam over the reference plaques on each stack. “I’ll check the shelves; you check the tables.”

Bentley nodded, casting an uneasy eye to the door. “Remember we’ve only got a few minutes before my virus crashes the system then we’re going to have to get out of here.

“Well then we’d better get searching.”

_We’re running out of time_ , Carmelita thought as she pulled dust cloths off work tables. The tablet hadn’t been in its place on Laurent’s meticulously organised shelves so she’d jumped down to help Bentley. It was slower going than she would have liked, searching the tables neither she nor Bentley wanted to upset a station and accidentally destroy a relic. At least the wheelchair’s robotic appendages could be used as an extra pair of hands.

“Carmelita…” Bentley hissed.

Carmelita froze, it couldn’t be time to leave yet, not yet, they were so close. “Have you found it?” She asked.

“I think… I think I have.”

Carmelita scrambled over to him and Bentley pulled out his binocucom with shaking hands. 

“You’re right, it does look like Sly’s signature. One way to find out.” He scanned the tablet, breath catching in his throat as he spoke again. “It was him, Sly did this… he… we can find him this.”

Carmelita gripped Bentley’s shoulder, giving him a small shake. “I knew it. I knew it!” She reached over and hefted the tablet off the work table. “Let’s get out of here.”

As she did that, another alarm, far above their heads began to wail.

“That… wasn’t me.” Bentley said slowly.

_Oh mierda_.

Then Murray’s voice came crackling through the comms, “uhhh… you guys aren’t on the roof, are you?”

“What? No. We’re in the… why would we be on the…? What’s happening on the roof?” Bentley spluttered back.

“Looks like a chase. I think whoever is up there just broke a skylight.”

“Someone else is breaking into the museum?” Carmelita asked incredulously, leaning down to look at the blurry pictures Murray sent from his binocucom.

“Someone who has tripped the security system.” Bentley muttered sourly. “Well the board of trustees can’t argue that their system is ‘adequate’ anymore. Bring the van around Murray, we need to go before these amateurs get us caught.” 

Carmelita stowed the tablet in the padded case attached to Bentley’s chair, “is this what it feels like for you guys when I show up?”

Bentley snorted, “oh goodness no, you were a _threat_ , or at least you were. Uh… that is you were a lot scary back in the old days.”

Carmelita chose to take that as the dubious compliment that it was and set off running.

Their exit point was a window on the second floor with a clear path of descent down to the street. However, getting to it was proving harder than their entry had been.  
Carmelita skidded around a corner then threw herself backwards, frantically motioning for Bentley to wait as she slid on her back, back to cover. The two of them peeped out watching a pack of security guards thunder off in the opposite direction.

All of their careful planning had gone up in smoke, Carmelita wished that she didn’t feel so insulted.

She got back to her feet. “I think they’re gone.”

“Wait.” Bentley caught the back of her shirt. “Give it fifteen more seconds.”

Obediently Carmelita waited even though her instincts screamed at her to keep running, she waited feeling a trickle of stress induced sweat track down her back, she waited because she trusted her friend. And sure enough, on the count of fourteen, a straggler guard jogged past. Carmelita exchanged a glance with Bentley, who nodded and they set off again.

The final gallery corridor stretched before them, a few dozen more steps and they were clear.

They could bring Sly home.

All of this will have been worth it if they could just do that.

There was a sudden flash of torchlight and Carmelita spun, a young museum guard stared at them, trembling from head to toe.

Carmelita sighed, _should have given it a full thirty_.

Behind her Carmelita could hear Bentley fumbling to load his crossbow.

The guard, shaking and stuttering lifted his radio, “I’ve got… tuh… two more on the… on the second floor…” 

_No_. They’d come too far to be stopped now. Carmelita didn’t have her shock pistol with her but she did have a gift from Bentley. The collapsible baton extended in her hand as she darted forward electricity crackling around it.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. 

The guard went rigid as the charge passed through him, eyes rolling back in his head, and he crumpled unconscious to the floor, fur smoking faintly.

“I take it back.” Bentley said. “You’re definitely still scary.”

Carmelita tucked the baton away, “thank you… I think.”

* * *

Out the window and into the van, Carmelita delicately lifted the tablet, Bentley guiding her as she placed it into the time machine.

Murray had already hit the accelerator and the screeching of the tires set a sharp counterpoint to the screaming of the alarms from the museum. Bentley threw switches and Carmelita held on for dear life as Murray kept accelerating and accelerating. She closed her eyes against both the flash from the time jump and the image of the blockade of police cars before them.

_No fear_ , she told herself. She trusted the boys but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t having perhaps uncharitable flashbacks to speeding toward a canyon with no brakes and a crash landing in the Ice Age.

Suddenly that peculiar weightlessness and silence that heralded a trip through the time stream replaced the chaos of the Paris Natural History Museum.

Carmelita gasped, opening her eyes as another flash of light dispersed and the van shuddered, the wheels hitting solid ground again then bouncing and skidding.

“Woah!” Murray braced both hands on the wheel, fighting for control. “Don’t worry baby I got you.” He wrenched the wheel, pulling off an impressive slide, sending rooster tails of sand up from the tires. The momentum from their entry expended, the van came to a halt.

“Well done Murray.” Carmelita sighed in relief.

The van wobbled, 

“Don’t thank me yet… I think we’re going to… uh oh.”

The van began to slide, downward. Bentley and Carmelita lunged to protect the tablet as everything tilted dramatically to the side.

Carmelita had seen Murray drive under a number of different circumstances over the years and here he was in his element as he fought to keep the van from toppling, controlling the drift until the van hit the bottom of the sand dune.

“Is it done, are we safe?” Bentley asked uncovering his eyes.

Murray peered out the driver’s side window, “yeah I think we’re all good now. Sorry guys we must have hit a dune.”

“Hey don’t apologise pal, thanks for keeping us from dying.”

“Yeah.” Carmelita added. “Nice driving Murray.”

“Aw that was nothing, some demolitions circuits are way worse.” Murray shrugged with a smile.

Gingerly Carmelita climbed out of the van, she looked back toward the sand dune they’d slid down, it was substantial.

Not for the first time she was glad that she was in this with Bentley and Murray, not only could she never had gotten here on her own but their expertise thus far had kept them all safe and alive.

Carmelita turned away, to look slowly around the vast golden desert. Sand stretched out in all directions, she could see the pyramids, distant white smudges on one horizon and smoke from a cooking fire rising from the other.

Well they were here, there was certainly no denying the location.

Bentley and Murray had gotten them here, now it was Carmelita’s turn. Finding Coopers was what she was good at, it was time to track down Sly.

Bold words perhaps when she had no idea where to even start. A shadow passed over her, she tipped her head back, a bird of some sort was flying over her. Shading her eyes against the sun, Carmelita tracked his path, they wore a loose robe and headdress and was drifting in the direction of the pyramids.

“That way.” She said pointing, instinct telling her where she needed to go.

Bentley and Murray squinted into the distance, casting a look back toward the promise of civilisation then following Carmelita’s pointing finger. “Are you sure?” They asked together.

The most important thing Carmelita had ever learned as an investigator was to trust her instincts. “Yes.” She said, taking one step, then another across the Egyptian sand.

They would find Sly out there.

She could feel it.


	3. time

The desert stretched before them, Carmelita had long since lost sight of the bird, she’d seen him descend in slow, lazy circles then vanish.

Laurent had said that the tablet had come from the pyramids so Carmelita figured that was best place to start looking, she borrowed Bentley’s binocucom and had picked up a sparkling blue trail. Sly was definitely out here.

They’d had to leave the van behind as the sands became uneven and more of those tall, dangerous dunes had appeared. Carmelita knew that if they didn’t find Sly soon, they’d have to turn back, it wouldn’t do any of them any good if they ended up dying out here.

As they crested a rise Carmelita saw a lone figure staggering across the sand.

“Sly? Sly!” Carmelita yelled.

The figure raised its head, lifting a hook headed cane from where it had been dragging in the sand to shield its eyes it stared for a moment before looking away and continuing its trudge.

“Didn’t he see us?” Murray asked, small and sad.

“Maybe it’s not Sly.” Bentley suggested. “Maybe it’s another Cooper?”

“No.” Carmelita said. “It’s him.” She could feel it.

“But Carmelita…”

“Here look,” Carmelita said tossing Bentley back his binocucom. Then took off running, she wanted to barrel straight into Sly, tackle him to the ground and hold him and shake him and banish the last six months of fear and uncertainty. But his apparent lack of recognition gave her pause, she didn’t want to panic him. She slid down the dune. “Sly.” She called again, closer now.

He flinched but kept walking, studiously not looking toward them.

Carmelita waited for Bentley and Murray to catch her up, there was no mistake now. It was Sly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Murray asked.

Bentley squinted up at where the sun sat high in the cloudless blue sky, “I hypothesise heat stroke. I dare say Sly probably thinks he’s hallucinating us.”

“But we’re real.” Murray said, very sad and small.

“Then let’s prove it to him.” Carmelita said staunchly. She walked carefully until she was following a few steps behind Sly. “Querida,” She said gently.

Sly looked over his shoulder at her, “you’re a very persistent mirage.” He muttered.

Closing the distance, Carmelita reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Sly, it’s us. We got your message, querida we’ve come to take you home.”

Sly froze, staring down at Carmelita’s hand like it was a viper. He shifted, one way, then another pulling against her grip then slowly he reached up and wrapped one of his hands around hers. He dropped his cane and tracked his other hand up her arm to her shoulder, tentatively checking that she was real.  
“’Lita?” He asked, voice cracking.

“Yes.”

“’Lita?”

“Sly.”

“’Lita.” And his legs buckled, Carmelita flung her arms around him as they both sunk to their knees in the sand.

“Sly!” Bentley and Murray rushed over to them and Murray lifted the whole group into a bone cracking embrace.

“You came.” Sly said weakly. “You found me.”

“Of course we did, pal.” Bentley said. “But really this was all down to Carmelita, she tracked you down… just like she always used to.”

Sly let out a dry sound that might have been a laugh and dropped his head to rest it against Carmelita’s shoulder. “I never should have doubted.”

“It wasn’t just me.” Carmelita shook her head. “It was all three of us together.” She pressed a kiss to Sly’s temple. “And now the four of us are going home.”

* * *

Murray carried Sly back to the van, Carmelita and Bentley trailing behind. Carmelita occasionally glancing toward the sky.

“Something wrong Carmelita?” Bentley asked.

Carmelita’s gaze moved on, lingering on the head of Sly’s cane, coated with something dark and crusted with sand then to Bentley’s furrowed brow. She shrugged, “I saw someone flying overhead before and I haven’t seen them fly back. Sly said there’s nothing but the pyramids and more desert out there, I was just wondering where they’d gone.”

Bentley frowned, “the likelihood of a single person crossing such a vast desert even by air is statistically very slim. Perhaps they were a grave robber, heading for the tombs?”

Carmelita cast a final glance over her shoulder, “you’re probably right.”

“Does it matter?” There was a hint of amusement in Bentley’s voice, no doubt thinking that Carmelita was perturbed at the thought of some ancient criminal committing crimes that she could not foil.

Frowning, Carmelita looked back to Sly, “I guess it doesn’t.” But something niggled at her detective’s instincts, there was something about the bird’s silhouette against the sky.

Something familiar.

* * *

The four of them piled into the van, Bentley set the time machine for home and Carmelita settled herself against Sly’s shoulder. She found herself staring down at Sly’s cane, it kept drawing her back . It was filthy, odd, considering how fastidious Sly normally was about keeping it clean.

He was walking through the desert with the sun baking his brain, Carmelita chided herself. Why was she worrying about this? 

Because something didn’t feel right, much like with the bird she’d seen. An instinctual pull as her detective’s brain tried to line things up.

“Sly?” She asked gently. “What happened?”

Sly opened his eyes and shot her a distraught look, full of pain. He pulled his cane against himself, “nothing. I… I had to… I don’t…” His harrowed expression softened slightly. “… ‘Lita… I…”

And then he vanished.

“ _SLY?!_ ” Carmelita screamed frantically grabbing at where he’d been as if she could pull him back through, through sheer force of will.

“What’s going on?” Murray craned to see behind him.

“Sly… Sly he just disappeared. Bentley… Bentley what happened? Where has he gone?”

“I don’t…” Bentley stared. “Something must have happened in the past, something must have changed.

“Uh oh… uh guys?” Murray yelled.

“What do you mean changed?” Carmelita could feel furious, confused tears welling up. “I thought you said the machine allowed for changes?”

“It’s supposed to…”

“GUYS?”

Bentley and Carmelita both whipped around to face Murray and through the windscreen there was a schism, a tear, a dark smear against the gentle, swirling lights of the time stream. And they were heading straight for it.

“…what…is…that?”

“A problem.” Bentley whispered, very, very quietly.

“BRACE _!_ ” Murray yanked on the wheel, spinning it around and around but there was nowhere to go and the darkness grew and grew consuming them entirely.

The van flipped and rolled, spinning until it came to an unexpected and jarring stop.

The three of them groaned weakly, Murray reached up to flick on the internal light. “Are you guys alright?”

Carmelita undid her seatbelt and fell against the side of the van; she could feel the wet stickiness of blood on her cheek and her ribs ached fiercely. “I’m fine.” She said. “Bentley?”

“I’m not hurt but I don’t think I can move.” The van was tilted precariously on its side, and Bentley would fall if he unbuckled his chair.

“Hold on, little buddy.” Murray said, throwing his weight to the opposite side.

“Woah.” Carmelita grabbed back onto his seat.

The van rocked back onto its wheels and settled.

“Thanks Murray.” Bentley reached down to unfasten his chair.

“How did you know we wouldn’t fall?” Carmelita asked peering out into the darkness. 

“How can you fall when there’s no ground?” Murray shrugged.

“That’s a… that’s a good point I guess.” Carmelita conceded. “Where are we?”

“I think…” Bentley said carefully. “I think we’re outside of time.”

“What about Sly?” Murray asked, brow furrowing. “What happened to him?”

“Something must have changed in the past preventing us from bringing Sly back to the present.” Bentley inspected the time machine, digging his hands into the wires and twisted metal components.

Murray peered worriedly over Bentley’s shoulder; the time machine had not fared as well as the other passengers in the van. “Can you fix it?”

“I have to.” Was the familiar, resolute response.

* * *

Carmelita sat, one foot twitching agitatedly, listening to Bentley tinkering with the broken time machine.

Back to square one.

Sly, lost in time and the three of them unable to follow.

It was enough to make her want to scream.

And maybe break a few things.

“What changed?” She muttered aloud.

“Could have been anything.” Bentley replied, tugging on a handful of wires and receiving a buzzing electric shock for his troubles.

“Are you alright?” Murray asked.

“Fine.” Bentley wheezed, letting out a puff of smoke.

“Umm Bentley.” Carmelita softly called for his attention. Hovering before her, just at eye level was another schism, the soft, coloured light of the time stream shining through it. Carmelita lifted up a hand to it…

“Carmelita, wait don’t touch that.”

Too late, there was a sensation of movement, of rapid displacement and Bentley, Murray and the interior of the van winked out of existence.

* * *

* * *

.  
.  
.  
Carmelita’s eyes opened and she sat up with a gasp, “Sly.”

“Oh my god. A voice sighed wearily. “Are you _dreaming_ about him now?” 

Blinking Carmelita turned toward the sound of the voice, a brown furred mongoose with a bun of frizzy red curls was making her bed.

“I gotta say Carm, ever since you started dating that first year you’ve gone positively soppy.”

“Amelia?” Carmelita croaked, staring in utter bewilderment at her roommate from her academy days.

“Jeez I hope so. It’d be weird if someone else was in our room.” She shot a flat look over her shoulder at Carmelita. “Are you getting up? We’re going to be late for assembly at this rate… or rather _you’re_ going to be late. I’m not waiting for you, I’ve had three years of perfect attendance, I’m not getting demerits now.”

Carmelita slid from the bed, staring all around her. This was definitely her room at the academy, there was hers and Amelia’s commendations on the walls, the twin beds with their too soft mattresses and scratchy grey blankets and their neat study desks, Amelia’s organised by colour and Carmelita’s alphabetically.

This couldn’t be real.

As she turned her head again Carmelita felt her plait thump against her shoulder, the plait she’d shorn off three months ago. She grabbed at it, pulling it over her shoulder, running her hands down it. 

It all felt real, but... it couldn't be...

Then she saw her reflection.

Seventeen year old Carmelita Montoya Fox stared back at her, the pudgy softness in her cheeks, the last of her baby fat as a kit and extra fluffy juvenile fur. A snout free from scars and teeth sporting the retainer that she had hated with every fibre of her being.

A teenager again.

_Oh god no._

_No, no, no_. She had to find Bentley and Murray, they had to find Sly. She turned on the spot, was she stuck here? Having to live through all of this again?  
Would this leave Sly trapped?

“Carmelita?” Amelia’s voice interrupted her crisis. “Are you okay?”

“I…”

“Do you want me to take you the infirmary?” Amelia asked gently.

Carmelita almost wanted to laugh at that, she and Amelia had roomed together all three years at the academy. They had gotten on spectacularly well because they had recognised in each other a fellow no nonsense kindred spirit. Her friend must be properly worried to speak to her like she was a frightened deer.

“I’m fine.” Carmelita said, turning away from the mirror.

Amelia frowned, “if you’re sure. You might want to put your uniform on them, I’m pretty sure that turning up to morning inspection in your pyjamas is worth two demerit points, at least. Not to mention social suicide… if you care about that sort of thing.” Amelia hastily added with a distasteful sort of shrug, one that implied that she did care, very much.

Above them a bell rang, the fifteen minute warning.

Carmelita flew into action, the sound triggering some kind of long dormant conditioned response. She threw on her uniform, laced her boots and yanked open the door.

“Carmelita your _bed!_ ” Amelia shrieked.

Carmelita spun on her heel, made her bed faster than she ever had (in either life) and ran with Amelia toward the main hall.

As they walked into the hall Carmelita could feel a niggling headache coming on. Students were milling about, mostly in their year groups as they waited for the final bell to pull them into line. To Carmelita’s surprise Amelia beelined for the first years, dragging Carmelita with her.

“Hey Cooper.” She yelled. “Your girlfriend is being weird. Fix her.” And she shoved Carmelita straight into the arms of a raccoon.

Carmelita stumbled, normally she’d be indignant about being pushed around but that was forgotten as she stared at, “Sly?”

Sly Cooper, fourteen years old and gangling with round cheeks and ears too big for his head grinned at her. “Morning.”

For a second Carmelita couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t happening, this was impossible but… but… but…

Here he was.

And she, at least this version of herself remembered him. Hand holding and studying together, laughing and training side by side.

“Sly!” She flung her arms around him, nearly knocking him clean off his feet.

“Um, hi?” He exchanged a confused glance with Amelia who shrugged and made a clear ‘your problem now’ gesture before walking off toward the other third years. “Uh Carm are you okay?” He asked.

That was jarring. “Don’t call me that.”

“What you mean your name?” His voice, higher than she was used to cracked as he asked.

“Carm.” She said, wrinkling her snout. “Don’t call me that.”

“But I’ve always called you…. _Everyone_ calls you that.”

“Not you.”

“Well then what should I call you?” He smiled, somewhere between amusement and confusion.

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I will? Um… okay. So uh, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“But Amelia said…”

“I know what Amelia said, she’s overreacting.”

“Huh… I didn’t think Amelia was capable of overreacting.” Sly looked thoughtful and it was so strange to see on such a baby face. “Are you nervous about meeting my parents next weekend?”

_Parents?!?!?_

Sly seemed to take her shocked expression as confirmation of his theory and he smiled reassuringly, “don’t be. They’ll love you, Dad especially and I told Mom that you’re top of the class so she’s already impressed.”

Hazy memories that were both hers and not swam back to her, long conversations about legacy and the fear of not living up to parental expectations. This Sly had always wanted to be a police officer, just like his mother.

Speechless, Carmelita just nodded.

Sly beamed at her.

The final bell rung and all around them kids scrambled to line up.

“See you at break and don’t worry too much okay?” Sly leant in for a kiss and Carmelita slammed her hands on his shoulders, because nope. He was way too young and that would be weird. His face fell, “Carmelita?”

“Uh later okay?” And she kissed his cheek, that was acceptable, wasn't it? She hoped. And she went to stand with the other third years.

She slipped into line, standing easy as she waited for the instructors.

“Morning Fox.”

Carmelita felt a shudder travel from the top of her head down to the tip of her tail, her fur bristling and standing on end. She’d forgotten, worrying about Sly and the craziness of the situation had completely made her forget that _he’d_ be here.

“Morning.” She said tightly. She resisted the urge to turn her head, she didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to acknowledge this boy  
who had broken her heart.

“You and your boyfriend are so cute together.” He continued cheerfully.

Carmelita felt herself relax ever so slightly; it occurred to her that if Sly was different then maybe _he_ was different too. Maybe this wasn’t the same person who had hurt her. After all in her timeline they had still been dating at this point, the betrayal hadn’t come until graduation. She had no memories of that in this life, maybe this version of him wasn’t so bad. “Thank you.” She said.

“Heh, but y’know if you ever get tired of being cute, I’m right down the hall and I can show you what a real man can do.”

_Nope, there it was_.

Pivoting Carmelita threw her full weight into a punch, socking him directly in the nose and oh, that felt _good_.

Somewhere behind her someone cheered. “Way to go Fox.”

And beside her fellow third years snickered.

“Fox _!_ What the hell do you think you’re doing?” One of the instructors yelled.

Carmelita shook out her hand, looking away from the boy on his knees, blood streaming between his fingers and snapped to attention. “Trust me sir, I should have done that years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, if anyone has read my fic 'Once More Around the Block' this premise might be looking familiar and yes you'd be right to think so. This was written with the intention of it being both a standalone fic and a companion to Once More from 'Lita's perspective (because that's what Mayurei asked for XD). 
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying the story so far


	4. and time again

* * *

* * *

.  
.  
.  
Carmelita’s eyes opened slowly this time, she was lying in an unfamiliar bed in a dim, unfamiliar room. She sat up, looking around taking stock, she was dressed and her favourite yellow jacket hung on one of the bedposts.

“Where am I now?” She muttered.

Bare feet hit the (outdated) carpet and she peered through the (equally outdated) curtains, high sun above a green lawn on a picturesque suburban street. 

Nowhere that she knew. She let the curtain fall back. _Curious and curiouser_.

She pulled on her jacket and opened the door, and this at least looked vaguely familiar. _I know where I am_ , the memories that were both hers and not seemed to say but she couldn’t grasp them.

The hall was covered in photo frames, full of family pictures. Carmelita gasped, that was why she recognised this hallway, she’d seen it in crime scene photos.  
Sly and his parents smiled at her from behind the glass. A whole lifetime stretched across the wall. Sly’s first day at school, a trip to an amusement park, his graduation from the academy, wedding photos. Carmelita paused, staring at herself beaming in a white dress and veil.

Married. Married to Sly. Both of them working for Interpol. She looked at a picture of the two them in her office, Sly sitting on her desk holding both of their name plates.

Some kind of fanciful perfection.

Another photo caught her eye, the two of them nursing a grey raccoon kit with bright orange curls, the same colour as Carmelita’s fur.  
Their baby.

She felt a rush of maternal warmth that was quickly replaced by a rolling discomfort in her gut. She shook her head backing away, she’d dreamt of a life like this. Before he’d been lost, she and Sly had talked about starting a family. Maybe she’d died when she touched that schism and this was a fantasy, some kind of hallucination conjured by her dying brain.

But…

It felt real, and what’s more her instincts were telling her that there was something that she was missing, some clue that she should have been picking up on.  
Sighing she turned away and continued down the hall, only to stop dead. There was a closet at the junction of the hall, entryway and living room, Carmelita knew it well, she’d spent hours staring at it, wondering. This was where Sly had hidden had hidden that night… except that it wasn’t. As evidenced by the happy photos on the wall that fateful invasion had never happened.

_Why not?_

“Oh, good you’re awake, do you feel better now dear?” A blonde raccoon, her pale brown hair and golden fur lightening to silver stood in the living room doorway, a tea cup in her hands. Daisy Cooper was smiling patiently at her.

Carmelita’s mouth opened and closed silently for a second, voice catching in her throat. She never thought she’d have this opportunity, to meet face to face with this woman, to speak to her, to ask her questions.

Carmelita had often stared at the file photo of Sly’s mother when she had been compiling her investigation into Sly’s past, wondering why? Why had she done it? Why had a bright young policewoman abandoned a promising career to disappear into the night, turning up ten years later, murdered and married to the criminal she was supposed to catch?

Carmelita had seen far too much of herself in Daisy May.

She remembered Dr. M taunting her with those similarities on Kaine Island, but those similarities didn’t scare her anymore. Carmelita had proudly kept to her moral code, or at least she had before all of this had happened.

Maybe Coopers just had a way of making the people (law keepers) who loved them do crazy things.

“Carmelita dear?” Daisy frowned at her in concern.

Oh, right. Daisy had asked her a question. “I… um…” Carmelita had never wanted to be able to lie with a straight face as badly as she did now. “I just…”

“If you’re wondering where Rena is, Sly and Conner took her with them to the store when she woke up from her nap. And I expect they’ll bring her home full of ice cream and sweets.” Daisy turned toward the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat? I can’t imagine what they gave you on the plane was any good, at least it wasn’t when I was still flying all over the globe. I can make some sandwiches.”

Carmelita’s stomach gurgled. Whatever this was, it was real enough for her to be hungry. “Sure. A sandwich sounds great, let me help.”

The two of them sat at the kitchen table waiting for Daisy’s kettle (imported from England and to this day a talking point among her American neighbours) to boil.

“What’s on your mind dear?”

Carmelita looked up from her plate, “oh… uh… nothing?”

Daisy hummed in that way that both mothers and investigators possessed that meant they didn’t believe you. “You just seem as if you’re more distracted than jetlagged, is there something about the case you’re working on?”

Carmelita, or at least this version of her felt a surge of familiarity and affection. This was what Daisy was good at, reading people, picking up on what went unspoken. All of this was so unsettling, feeling this deep sense of attachment to a life that wasn’t hers, a baby she didn’t have and a woman she didn’t know. This Carmelita loved her mother-in-law and almost envied her effortless empathy. But for Carmelita, the Carmelita who needed to find a boyfriend lost in Ancient Egypt she just felt ill, the headache was back and worse now. 

As idyllic as everything in this timeline seemed, it wasn’t hers and it didn’t feel right to be imposing on the other version of herself like this.

“How did you know?” She blurted, because all of the other questions she had once wanted to ask she had long ago found herself answering. “When you left with Conner how did you know that it was the right thing to do?”

Daisy blinked, leaning back in her chair. “I guess I didn’t. I just did it because I wanted to. Things were… different back then and Conner listened to me in a way that I felt no one else did at that time… or ever really and that was validating. I think I told myself that I could do more to actively help people if I was with Conner but that was a very pretty half-truth. I was in love with him and I wanted to be with him.” She stood as the kettle began to sing. “I’m sorry dear, that’s probably not the answer you wanted.”

Carmelita thought of walking out of a forest in the Czech Republic, of standing on a dock looking out to sea, of all of her justifications falling away like stones disappearing beneath the surface of a lake.

. _plink_

. _plink_

. _plink_.

And she understood.

“But it’s your answer.” She said, too much the same perhaps, she and Daisy. Two women, who were the last ones on Earth who should have chosen Coopers and they had done it anyway.

Because that was love.

And in the end love didn’t make any sense, there were no grand answers for all the whys you might have asked.

There was only, because I want to.

Because I love him.

Carmelita hoped that this version of herself was happy, fulfilled in her career and her family and that she had easy answers to her black and white questions. That was probably never going to Carmelita’s life because she loved a thief and if her jaunt through the museum had shown her anything it was that she didn’t want to share that part of his life, her job meant more to her than that.

There must be a balance to be found between Sly’s need to be a Cooper and Carmelita’s need to follow the rules and pursue justice.

They’d find it, they had made it work so far.

And then maybe one day, one day soon she hoped, they’d have a life like this, stable, comfortable, safe.

“Thank you.” She said to Daisy.

Daisy just smiled, if she thought the question odd or out of place she didn’t say, just placed a mug down on the table. “Any time dear, any time at all.”

* * *

* * *

.  
.  
.

Carmelita woke with a jerk, her chin slipping off her balled fist. She rocked back in her chair, blinking and staring around her. She was in her office _?_

Polished desk, rickety wooden chair, half shuttered venetian blinds on the window, the couch she had napped on more times than she’d care to admit and behind her the cork board that had once been covered in pictures from her investigation of Sly.

She’d taken those down years ago though, declared the case cold and accepted several months of odd looks and whispers in the office about her apparent defeat. 

This board was a mess, covered in blurry surveillance photos and what looked like several entire skeins of coloured yarn. She squinted at the pictures, no sign of Sly. Carmelita pushed herself up from her chair and tracked a string of purple thread from a black and white photo of a pair of longshoremen failing to look natural as they secretly unloaded a crate. From there an orange thread to another picture, this one of a jungle clearing dotted with ruined stone pillars. She took a few steps back, walking around her desk to try and make sense of the tangled web and then she saw it.

Dimitri’s former nightclub.

Rajan’s temple.

Nunavut Bay.

The Klaww Gang.

Was she still in her past? She’d never investigated the Klaww Gang like this though…. And Sly had never attended the Academy, so no ruling anything out yet.  
Behind her there was a knock at the door, “Chief Barkley’s ready to see you Inspector.”

* * *

“Fox, there you are. Sit.” Barkley waved her to a seat.

The badger looked much the same as he had the last time Carmelita had seen him, the same amount of grey in his moustache. His ashtray gone from his desk, finally having been persuaded to give up his cigars. Perhaps this wasn’t the past?

So where was Sly?

“Thank me Fox, it took some doing but I got that warrant you asked for.” Barkley said puffing himself up and flapping the file he was holding around.

“…thank you, sir.” Carmelita said stiltedly. _What warrant?_

“I hope you understand how far out on the limb I’m going for you here.”

“…yesss sir.”

Barkley squinted at her, “had a change of heart Fox? After all of that talk about your gut feelings and your proof, you’re having second thoughts now?”

“No sir.” Carmelita said immediately, automatically.

“Hmph.” Barkley stuck out the warrant for her and just as Carmelita reached for it, he pulled it back. “One condition. You take the Countessa’s protégé with you.” 

The name sent a familiar shiver through Carmelita, turned her stomach and caused her heart to stutter uncomfortably in her chest. 

The Countessa.

Of course, she should have realised when she saw the signs of the Klaww Gang on her board.

And the Countessa’s Interpol protégé could only mean…  
.  
.  
.  
_Neyla_.

“If it’s all the same sir, I’d rather not.”

“The Countessa is a well respected and well connected, it’s safe to assume that she knows you have been looking into her. I doubt she’ll talk to you, take Neyla and she might be a little more open… might let something slip.” He held out the warrant again. “And if you’re wrong having Neyla there may help smooth things over.”

“I’m not wrong.” Carmelita said staunchly, taking the warrant.

“Ahh. There’s that Fox fire and vinegar.” Barkley said, almost fondly. “Now get out of my office and don’t forget to take Inspector Neyla with you.”

_Inspector?!?!?_

Her shock must have shone on her face because Barkley frowned at her, “problem Fox?”

Carmelita straightened. “No sir.”

* * *

Carmelita paced back to her office, flicking through the file Barkley had given her, noting the current date at the top of the warrant. Definitely not the past, somehow in this timeline the Klaww Gang had persisted in secret. _How had they managed that?_ They should have been dismantled and defeated years ago.

“Warrant to search the home and business premises of Her Ladyship, Countessa, Doctor Regina Eliza Pavouk, in relation to charges of corruption and misuse of Interpol resources.” Carmelita read quietly to herself, _well that was one way of putting it_. The idea of going back to… that place… was no longer one of panic stricken dread but rather unease and a long latent anger followed by the very satisfying notion of finally being the one who got to slap the cuffs on the Countessa’s bony wrists.

“Carmelita.”

Carmelita stumbled mid-step, another familiar voice, the response this time though was not revulsion but rage. She turned, “Constable Neyla.”

The tigress pouted, she looked just as Carmelita remembered her except for the shining Inspector’s badge clipped to her belt. She still moved with the same slow, deliberate strut, tail gently curling and lashing to draw attention to the sway of her hips. “Tch, that’s not very nice Carmelita, my promotion’s not that new. Surely it’s been long enough for a senior officer like you to remember.”

Carmelita swallowed; she’d spoken without thinking. Entirely on instinct. This version of Neyla was lucky Carmelita hadn’t pulled off the other woman’s headscarf and strangled her with it. “My apologies… Inspector Neyla.”

Neyla smiled at that, full and content. Smug. Predatory. “Chief says you and I are going to Prague.”

“That’s right.” It was odd, having another conversation with someone who was supposed to be dead, more so than her talk with Daisy had been. She’d known Neyla, sat beside her on long haul flights, had had stilted office conversations with her… had seen her die.

Was this Neyla a traitor? Was she just an ambitious fellow officer trying to climb the ladder? Was she a con woman playing the long game?

“Tell me Inspector Neyla, does the name Arpeggio mean anything to you?”

Neyla rolled her eye, “a pop quiz, really Carmelita, what is this middle school?” She folded her arms and cocked a hip. “ _Obviously_ I read the dossier, I know he’s the alleged ‘brains’ behind the Klaww Gang’s spice smuggling operation.”

Carmelita nodded, a plausible answer but Carmelita was still concerned.

“So, you really think the Countessa is crooked then?”

“I know it.”

“It’d be such a shame to arrest her.” Neyla sighed, “she was always so good to me.”

“You knew her when you were a student, didn’t you?” Carmelita said, surprising herself. She knew that… somehow. Hazy memories flittered through her mind as two different lifetimes warred for dominance.

Neyla’s tail flicked out in surprise. “Yes. She came to do a series of guest lectures on ethics at my university in London. She’s the reason I went into law enforcement,” she sighed again lifting a hand to her cheek. “She was such an inspiration and she introduced me to so many interesting people. It’s such a shame when an officer falls from the light, isn’t it?”

Carmelita froze, she’d heard that before. “Wait here a moment Neyla, I just need to go back to my office… for a moment.”

“You forgot something Carmelita?” Neyla smirked, examining her claws. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

Ignoring her, Carmelita all but ran back to her office, she grabbed a piece of paper and tracked the red and black threads on the board back to Arpeggio and the Countessa. She wrote Neyla’s name on the paper and pinned it to the empty space where those threads intersected. 

A message to herself.

Hopefully it would work, that it would be enough. A clue to damn or clear Neyla.

Turning on her heel Carmelita marched back up the hall. She didn’t know how long she had in this timeline and there was still no hint of Sly but maybe she could be here just long enough to see justice served and earn some much needed catharsis.

Time to pay the piper indeed.


	5. What was always meant to be

* * *

* * *

.  
.  
.

Carmelita stirred, stretching out languorously. She felt peaceful and there was a comfortable weight resting against her chest, for a warm, sleepy second, she almost just rolled over and snuggled back down before remembering.  
“Sly _!_ ” She tried to sit up.

“Yeah?”

Oh. “Sly?”

“Mm?”

Carmelita looked down, eyes adjusting to the dim light. There was Sly, beside her in the bed, immediately she could see he was a little different to her Sly. He had a notch in one ear, an old scar by the look of it. A bare patch of skin on his shoulder, still shiny from a burn and a slightly different pattern to the dark fur around his eyes. But the same smile, and the same amber bright hazel eyes, looking at her with soft fondness and love.

Almost, almost, almost… but not quite.

And the not quite was enough to break your heart.

“’Lita? Something wrong?”

 _So many things_ , she wanted to say, _so many things I couldn’t even begin to explain to you_.

“Are you nervous?” He continued, “about the heist?

 _Not a cop in this timeline then. That was... new_.

“Don’t be.” He assured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The gang has a solid plan, and you’re smart, you’re strong, you’re fast. It’ll all be fine.”

“Mm. Mmhmm…” Carmelita nodded, internally _screaming_ at herself. _How was she a thief? How had that happened?_ Her job had been her constant as she bounced around these strange, parallel lives. _What had changed?_

A heavy knock on the door pulled Carmelita from her panicked introspection, “hey lovebirds _!_ Put some clothes on. Briefing starts in ten minutes.”

Carmelita frowned; she didn’t recognise that voice.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” Sly yelled back and as he shifted in the bed, Carmelita blushed as she realised the two of them were in fact naked.

“Ew gross. Did not want to know that.” The voice responded.

Sly chuckled, “well we’d better get up.” He smiled at Carmelita, “we don’t want to miss the slideshow.”

* * *

Carmelita had been in enough of the Cooper Gang’s safe houses to recognise one when she saw one. A slide projector and screen sat in the middle of the room, devices and cables littered the couches, mechanical pieces _(a carburettor?)_ sat cleaned and disassembled on the kitchen table. Except... _this place is much larger than a normal hideout_ , Carmelita thought, she barely had time to wonder why though when she saw them…

Cooper canes.

Five of them in varying styles and sizes, hanging in mounts on the wall.

There was Sly’s familiar and weathered, next to it were two facing in toward each other, almost identical only differentiated by a knotted length of pink ribbon dangling from one and a longer grip on the other. The last two were more unusual, one handled in bamboo, small, lightweight, delicate, flexible. And the other the polar opposite, its gleaming hook at least three times wider than any of the others, more a club than a cane.

“Evening Carmelita.” Another new voice addressed her sunnily.

Carmelita turned to see a grey female raccoon with a head of bouncing ringlets and hazel eyes smiling at her. She wore a boiler suit, her arms full of tools and plastic casings. Behind her another grey raccoon, a male with slicked back hair and a square jaw, wearing a sweater vest and carrying a tablet.

Both were unmistakably Coopers.

Desdemona ‘Dizzy’ and Arno Coopeur, this Carmelita’s memories supplied her. Sly’s cousins from Belgium. A mechanical engineer and hacker respectively. Fraternal twins.

“Hi.” Carmelita said, or maybe didn’t. She made a sound, but it was more gasp than greeting.

“Oooh.” Dizzy giggled. “You sound a little hoarse. Big day?”

“Gross Dizzy.” Arno wrinkled his snout and flopped onto a couch.

Carmelita recognised his voice as the one that had roused her and Sly.

“Oh, don’t be such a _prude_ Arno. And don’t take up so much room, this couch is meant to seat three people.” Dizzy leant over the back of the couch piling half dismantled devices and bits of electronics on top of her brother.

“Dizzy quit it. Stop. Don’t touch that.”

The twins descended into a slap fight, and two more Coopers walked in, because of course they were Coopers. How could they have been anything else?

Carmelita knew them on sight. Aasma al-Kupar in her headscarf, broad shouldered and strong armed simply picked Dizzy up by the waist as she passed and deposited her silently on the other side of the room. And following after her, Hiromi ‘the Winged’ Kupā, in a racing jumpsuit and her perfect eyeliner, laughing at the whole debacle.

“You are setting a bad example for our guest.” Aasma said, her voice soft and deep.

“Carmelita’s not a guest. She’s family.” Hiromi said, slinging herself into the seat across from Dizzy and fiddling with the carburettor parts.

“Mm.” Dizzy nodded. “Wings is right.”

From his couch Arno scoffed, loudly.

Dizzy grabbed some of Hiromi’s engine parts and started flinging them at her brother, “shut up Arno.”

Arno hid behind his tablet to deflect the projectiles. “I’m just saying…”

“Children, children please.” A mandrill in a brown cardigan and pince-nez walked into the room with Sly.

Carmelita’s mouth dropped open, when Sly had said he was going to get ‘the brains’ she hadn’t expected this. 

He was older and softer, missing the plug interface for controlling his monsters but unmistakably she was looking at Dr. M. The last time she’d seen him he’d shot Sly; he’d been howling as the vault had collapsed around him. And now here he was.

Another ghost.

“Carmelita dear girl, is everything alright?” M must have noticed her stricken, staring expression.

“Fine,” She croaked, sinking into a chair. “I’m fine.”

“’Lita’s just got pre-heist jitters Uncle Mo.” Sly sat next to Carmelita, putting an arm around her. “She’s never done a job with all of us before.”

“Yeah she’s managed to keep her hands clean for all this time.” Arno muttered, only to get pinged in the head by a well placed shot by his sister.

Carmelita could only sit there, bewildered and reeling, _‘Uncle Mo’???_

“Well.” M addressed the room. “If we’re all here, shall we begin?”

“Why not.” Sly grinned. “Thanks again for your help with this job Uncle Mo.”

_UNCLE MO?!?!?_

“Nonsense my boy, what kind of godfather would I be if I couldn’t assist my dearest friend’s son when he needed it?”

M started up the slide projector and Carmelita racked her brain for any more information from her other self to try and explain this… the strangest of all the alternates she’d seen thus far. Nothing came to her. No heart breaking decisions, no grand and terrible life changing deviations, no fall from grace. Nothing.

How had she ended up here?

She had similar memories of her childhood, the Academy…

_Wait..._

_The Academy?_

.

.

.  
_Oh._ Oh no, she wasn’t a thief at all.

The world seemed to narrow, to rapidly shrink and converge on her.

She was still Interpol.

She was undercover, part of a sting operation.

Carmelita rocketed to her feet, a single memory, a phone call, hanging frozen in her mind. She had to tell the gang, had to warn them. They needed to run.

“’Lita?” Sly reached for her concerned.

There was no honour in this, this deception. “The police are on their way; you have to go. You all have to get out of here.”

M turned away from his slides, “and how do you know that?” He asked, soft and dangerous. "How do you know what the police are planning?"

Carmelita let out a long breath, she lifted her chin and pulled back her shoulders. “Because I am one.” She said, resolutely.

There was a chorus of hurt and surprise as the room erupted at this revelation and M’s calm façade dropped.

“ _Traitor!_ ” He snarled, baring his long, pointed canines. A weapon appearing in his hand.

The déjà vu was nearly overwhelming, sweeping over her like a physical wave. As if in slow motion she tracked the arc of his arm as he aimed at her, and then… and then just as before (but never) there was Sly.

“No _!_ Not her.”

Carmelita tried to shove him away, not again, not again. She tried to call his name, tried to tell him to run, to apologise but everything was lost in a flash of light and a feeling like vertigo.

.

.

.

.

When Carmelita opened her eyes again, she was back in the van, hand still outstretched. Bentley and Murray still half reaching for her.

The tear was gone.

“Carmelita? Carmelita, are you alright?” Murray hung over the driver’s seat to touch her knee.

“What… what happened?” She asked, had any of that been real? It had to have been, it had been too strange, too sad, too specific to have been anything else but real.

“It just disappeared.” Bentley said. “You’re lucky nothing happened.”

Carmelita turned to look, “what do you mean?”

Bentley and Murray exchanged worried glances,

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Bentley frowned.

“You touched that weird dark smudge and it flashed and disappeared.” Murray explained.

 _So, it had all been instantaneous then_. Carmelita raised a hand to her chin. “I saw... Something happened.” She said. “When I touched the tear, it _showed_ me things.”

“It showed you things?” Bentley repeated dubiously. “Like what?”

“Sly mostly.” She said. “But not our Sly, I saw other versions of our lives… my life.” Because, it occurred to her she had not seen Bentley and Murray at all.

Bentley leant back, “a temporal rift, it must have been a fracture from the bigger tear that we fell through.”

Carmelita’s head ached; she had a feeling that what she’d seen had been deliberate somehow. That there was something she was missing, some clue that tied all those alternate lives together.

Some clue that would help her find Sly.

Think _!_ She was the investigator, what was she missing? What was the common thread?

First, she had seen Sly at the Academy, his parents alive and he had chosen his mother’s path rather than his father’s. Then she’d seen the jump forward in that same timeline, the two of them married, working at Interpol, with a cosy, close knit family.

But she’d not seen Sly at all when she’d woken in her office and seen Neyla… that had been disconcerting, Neyla alive again all these years after she had sold her soul to rage and hatred, only to become dust.

And then there had been the other version of the Gang, the Cooper gang in every sense of the word. Coopers from other branches of the family tree, Coopers from all over the world, thriving.

And she kept coming back to that nagging feeling of recognition of the bird in Egypt.

The realisation hit her like a truck.

**Clockwerk.**

That was the common thread.

No Clockwerk meant that Sly’s family lived, all of them. Parents, cousins, generations of Coopers.

No Clockwerk meant no Clockwerk parts, no immortality for Neyla and Arpeggio to chase and years of the Klaww Gang skating under the radar.

That was why the shadow of that bird had seemed so familiar, a Eurasian eagle owl dark against the blue sky, it stirred memories, of Russia, of the stars above Paris blotted out.

It couldn’t be though.

But the coincidence was too great.

A good investigator never ignored coincidence.

Sly had told her that Clockwerk’s earliest recording in the Thievius Raccoonus had been in Ancient Egypt.

Blood on Sly’s cane.

The look in his eyes of a man who was struggling with something terrible.

The dots connected. It all lined up.

“I know what changed, I know why Sly disappeared."

“What?” Bentley spluttered. “How? Carmelita, I don’t know what you saw… or thought you saw in that thing but…”

“It was Clockwerk.” Carmelita interrupted. “It was Clockwerk that I saw in the desert, we have to go back, we have to stop Sly.”

“What… what do you mean? Stop Sly from what exactly? And Clockwerk? The statistical probability of such an encounter….”

“Wait.” Murray put a large hand on Bentley’s shoulder and one on Carmelita’s leg, a comforting weight, a settling presence. He met Carmelita’s eye, worried but steadfast. “What happened? What did you see?”

Carmelita put a hand on top of Murray’s and squeezed gently, grateful. And explained, about her experience with her alternate lives and her theory.

“So, let me get this straight,” Bentley said as she finished. “You think that Sly somehow found Clockwerk and…” He swallowed. “…killed him?”

“As impossible as it sounds, yes.”

The three of them sat in solemn silence for a moment as they processed this, the boys staring hard at the floor.

“So, we just need to stop him.” Murray said.

“I… yes…” Bentley took off his glasses to scrub his hands over his face. “If we want Sly back, we need to… save Clockwerk.” He sighed. “No wonder Sly disappeared, the time machine was only calibrated to allow for minor changes, that’s one that would have been too big. Too drastic. Too many variables for my algorithm to compute.”

Murray’s face crumpled, “it doesn’t seem fair. Sly could have his family back, Bentley…” His gaze drifted to Bentley’s wheelchair.

“If we want Sly back it’s the only way,” Bentley turned back to the time machine. “Nothing else matters.”

“We’re saving him.” Carmelita said, taking Murray’s hand in both of her own. “There might be other versions of Sly who have lead different lives but our Sly belongs with us and I don’t want him to have to live with… _that_ on his conscience.” 

Murray looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “You’re right.” He took a breath. “Bentley, what can we do to help?”  
Without looking away from what he was doing Bentley held out a hand, “for a start you can pass me that socket wrench.”

* * *

There was a fizzing shower of sparks as Bentley connected the last two wires.

“…wait…wait... I think I’ve got it…” Bentley said and the machine lit up and began to whir, its input screen springing back to life beneath the spiderweb cracks stretching from corner to corner.

Carmelita, the fur on her fingertips singed reached down and gripped Bentley’s shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “Bentley you did it.”

“Don’t congratulate me yet, there’s only one to find out if this works.” He buckled himself back in and began throwing switches. He pointed out, toward the darkness. 

“Punch it Murray.”

* * *

Back under the Egyptian sun, back amongst the endless dunes. Arriving just as they had before, the pyramids in the distance and the shadow of a bird passing overhead.

Hanging out the passenger side window Carmelita pointed, “Murray follow that bird!”

“Save the embodiment of pure evil to get Sly back, gotcha.” Murray said, adjusting his googles and flexing his hands on the steering wheel. “Let’s go.” He hit the gas and the van took off, skipping across the sand.

Bentley tracked the bird – **Clockwerk** – through his binocucom. “He’s banking Murray, two klicks west.”

“Shortcut _!_ ” Murray announced, spinning the wheel and launching the van into a jump from a medium sized dune.

They landed with a bump but never lost speed.

“He’s descending.” Bentley yelled.

As they approached Carmelita grabbed Murray’s shoulder. “Stop.”

Murray stomped on the brakes and they skidded to a halt, but Carmelita was already out, jumping and rolling, scrambling to her feet to run. She could just make out a pair of figures as she crested the rise and the unmistakable silhouette of Sly’s cane on a downward arc.

_No._

Not this time.

“Sly.” She yelled, the sand beneath her boots crumbled and she began to fall, fast. Sliding down the curve of the dune, she reached a hand behind her to steady herself, trying to mimic Murray’s earlier technique with the van. “Sly.” She yelled again, “don’t do this, this isn’t you.” Her feet hit flat ground and she was immediately running again.

She’d pry the cane from Sly’s hand if she had to, she wasn’t going to lose him again.

She wasn’t going to fail him this time.

Sly looked from her to the cowering figure of Clockwerk in the sand and she watched his exhausted face crumple and he released his cane, letting it slip from his fingers. He sunk to his knees, muttering incoherently and Clockwerk took to the sky. Carmelita’s head tipped back watching him go up and up, watching him climb higher and higher into the sky and out of reach.

She felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach, this was the only way to get Sly back but there was guilt too. Was this right or was it selfishness?

Was what Sly had done, had almost done, would eventually do, was that justice or vengeance?

Did it matter?

The past couldn’t be changed without disastrous consequences, they’d seen that.

Carmelita rocked Sly gently as he broke down and Bentley and Murray rushed to join them.

They just had to make the best of the present they had.

Strive toward a happy future.

 _It was all they could do_ , Carmelita thought as she pressed a kiss to the top of Sly’s head. _It was all anyone could do_.

* * *

Murray still carried an exhausted Sly back to the van but this time his cane was clean and the haunted expression was gone from his eyes.

This time they were _all_ going home.

“I still can’t believe you found me.” Sly laughed weakly. “I hoped you’d see my sign but I wasn’t sure if it would survive.”

“Of course we did. We never stopped searching for you.” Carmelita assured, she was holding Sly against herself, perhaps just in case something went wrong again, perhaps just because she had missed him. The world may never know. She looked over at Bentley, “that reminds me, we need to return the tablet to the museum. Laurent’s probably having kittens right about now.”

“Oh yeah Sly, Carmelita did a heist.” Murray said enthusiastically, turning in his seat.

“You did, and I missed it?" Sly sighed. "Oh man. We’re just going to have to do another.”

Carmelita thought of the shock baton and the mask, thought of her badge and her job. “Nope.” She said flatly. “Absolutely not. One time only deal Ringtail, too bad.”

Sly wheedled and jokingly pleaded and Bentley and Murray laughed as they watched the two of them mock bicker.

Sly then talked for a bit about an idea he’d had, a new way he wanted to do things. A combination of the cases he’d worked with Carmelita and his old thieving ways with gang, “maybe we can help people.” He said, “…mostly legally.”

And Carmelita thought she liked the sound of that.

Then he’d dropped off to sleep against Carmelita’s shoulder and she smiled. The Cooper Gang was back together and as they blew back toward their present, towards home she couldn’t help but think that this, this easy camaraderie, this acceptance and understanding she shared with the boys.

 _This love_ , she thought squeezing Sly’s hand.

This, the four of them together, united. 

This was how it was always meant to be.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are at an ending that's been a long time coming. Everyone together, happy and safe. Just how I like my endings <3
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed this ride, and whatever this weird, crazy AU has been. Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments they sustain me and never fail to bring a smile to my face.
> 
> Stay safe in these uncertain times y'all and hopefully there'll be some more from me soon.


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